


I dont even know

by Losvers_party



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Insane Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:22:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28559757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Losvers_party/pseuds/Losvers_party
Summary: Philza swaps realities with a less than sane version of himself. Will he figure out what's going on or will he be stuck in this doomed reality?
Comments: 3
Kudos: 61





	1. Wilbur the friendly ghost

**Author's Note:**

> This is essentially an idea I haven't seen before so if there are any fics like this please tell me so I can read them.

"My l'manburg, phil! My unfinished symphony forever unfinished!" Philza quickly sat up, the comfortable bed he was laying on suddenly feeling less comfortable. The scene had been replaying in his mind on loop, the crazed voice of a man who had lost everything, the tears running down his sons face as he looked down upon the ruins of the once great nation of l'manburg. 

As his eyes darted frantically across the empty, dark room he spotted a dull figure shrouded in darkness standing at the edge of his bed. The stranger was seemingly translucent, their skin was a light grey colour and directly flashed with the bright yellow jumper that hung loosely from their slim frame. They had curly dark hair that dangled in front of their right eye like an eye patch and their face held a calm, scarily familiar smile. 

With a shaking hand phil turned on the bedside light, expecting the apparition to disappear from his field of view but the spirit just stood their with friendly eyes and a welcoming smile. 

"W-wilbur" philza's voice shook as he called to the ghost in front of him. At the mention of his name, the long dead man seemed to snap back to reality, his smile wavering and his face slipping into a subtle look of concern.

"I'm sorry. I know you don't want me in here, it's just that you were screaming about something and I thought... you know..." Wilbur's voice was raspy and quiet, it sounded almost strained and painful. 

"You're dead." The older man blurted out, fear overcoming him as the images of Wilburs lifeless body flooded his brain like a tsunami in a drought. A gentle chuckle came from the ghost, his face glowing in childlike amusement.

"I guess. I'm a ghost for a reason" philza didn't find it as funny as his deceased son did. 

As he started at ghostbur he came to a sensible conclusion, his grief was clearly warping his mind. Wilbur was dead. He blew up l'manburg and then died in his arms. He blew up his nation and was stabbed to death by his father.

Or did he...


	2. Warps in memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philza discovers that the world is different than what he remembers

"Philza? Phil? Are you ok? You look really confused." When Philza finally opened his eyes the grey face of his son greeted him. Sighing, he climbed out of bed, exhaustion aching in his bones. 

The oak plank flooring was cold and rough beneath his bare feet and he found himself wondering if ghostbur could feel different temperatures; his son had always despised the cold. It took about two minutes before the man realised that the apparition was talking and ultimately decided to make an attempt at paying attention. 

"-ng to the child and he agrees, you should get out of the house more. You've been like this since you heard the news and I know you've busied yourself by making plans to overthrow schlatt but I feel like you're just trying to find away to hide from the world." Philza froze.

"Wait..." He said, his voice was hesitant and laced with confusion as he tried to understand what was going on.

Wilbur turned to face him, concern taking over his features for what seemed like the thousandth time. 

"Are you sure you're ok?" His voice still held the painful rasp but it had somewhat of a more gentler tone, like he was talking to a stubborn child who denied they were sick. 

"Should I go get techno? He typically knows what to do in these types of situations."

Techno? Last time phil heard from him was the 16th... when he released the withers...

Wilbur didn't stop speaking.

"I mean, maybe dream knows if that sounds better but I'm about fifty percent sure he's working with schlatt. Or at least the dream equivalent of working with someone. Although he did try to convince Tommy to blow up lmanburg so I'm not entirely sure at this point"

At this point philza was certain that he was dreaming some weird messed up dream where things were only the slightest bit off from reality. Yes, Wilbur was dead. Yes, schlatt was president at some point in time. Yes, dream was a very confusing inbetween during all the wars. All of these facts were true. However will's death and schlatts presidency never overlapped, dream didn't try to convince tommy of all people to blow up lmanburg, and philza was one hundred percent certain that he wasn't even meant to be here yet. 

"I have an odd question for you will." Phil's voice shook, His mind was frantically trying to wrap around the strange world his subconscious had built out of his guilt and grief. He was obviously dreaming or hallucinating or something. Nothing was making sense. 

"Uhh, sure." Wilbur was hesitant but he decided that answering a simple question wouldn't hurt. Anyway, Tommy would be here soon and maybe he could go get technoblade! Yeah, maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"How did you, you know, die?" The question caught Wilbur off guard. That was the one question he really wasn't prepared for.

"I... I took Tommy's place in a duel against dream. As much as I trust the kid, I knew he wouldn't win it and I didn't want to lose him... I died in his arms on the way to the med tent..."


	3. The death that was(nt)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy shares important news and phil deals with the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must warn you that some chapters will be longer than others.

At the mention of his eldest sons supposed death he froze, the crazed figure of his son standing before a burning crater of a country still echoing in his hear like the yellings of a madman in a ravine.

"A duel..." Wilbur opened his mouth, ready to respond when the familiar sound of a door opening drew his attention away from the shell shocked figure of philza and onto the blonde haired ball of energy that barrelled through the door.

"He's dead! He's finally dead!" The excited voice of philza's youngest son rang through the small home like a bomb in a pillow factory. Wilbur forced a small smile for the extremely happy boy, his corporal figure flickering slightly.

"Really?"

"Yeah! We all teamed up to take him down but when we got there he was already dead! Dream said it was alcohol poisoning or a heart attack or something!" Philza noted this fact down; 'schlatt dies the same way but at a slightly different time'

Wilburs figure dimmed, light blue tears lined his eyes as the information finally settled in his mind. Schlatt, Wilburs oldest friend, his enemy, was dead. The ghost let out a mournful laugh, guilt and betrayal littered his voice when he spoke. 

"Wow, he's finally dead. I always told him his habits would kill him... I guess I can finally tell him I told him so..." Ghostburs voice was wobbly and quiet as he spoke through subtle sobs and frantically blinked away tears. Philza hadn't seen his son like this in a while. Hell, he was pretty sure the ex-president celebrated the first time around. He smiled a comforting smile in his eldests direction and then turned to face his youngest son.

"So, what are you going to do now?"


	4. Ghost ×2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another ghost is added to the mix

Tommy looked sheepish as the question settled in his brain, suddenly looking younger than usual.

"I... I didn't think that far" Wilbur let out a quiet laugh, dried his eyes, and placed a cold hand on his younger brothers back.

"Come on tommy, let's go talk to the others, I'm sure they'd like to know what comes next." His voice was calm as he lead the youngest out of the room and towards the celebrating townsfolk in the street; leaving philza alone.

The silence encased him as he stood alone with only his thoughts to distract him from the obvious.

"So..." he began, his voice was an atomic bomb compared to the quiet of the small house he supposedly lived in.

"I woke up in this house, Wilbur is a ghost who died during the revolution, and schlatt only just died." With a shake of his head he decided not to dwell on the fact that he woke up with memories of events that didn't happen but instead decided to focus on what he was doing in lmanburg in the first place.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to remember what he was doing before his god awful dream 

"You were mourning your son. You know? The life you ended without a second thought" a voice echoed through the house, seemingly coming from the out of place Samsung smart fridge that sat in the middle of the office like a spider in a bee farm. The voice spoke again.

"I'm *next* to the fridge" his eyes shifted first to the left and then to the right where they focused on a familiar horned sight casually leaning against the sleek stainless steel coated piece of machinery.

The figure was also a light grey and was wearing a similar style of jumper as Wilbur was, just in a dark blue instead of yellow. He was a picture perfect carbon copy of his sons best friend... the man that had died the very same day.

"..." the silence was almost solid as the two glared at eachother, almost like they were trying to read eachothers mind to see why they were here.

"I'm pretty sure this isnt our world, at least not the one we're used to" schlatts voice was slightly less raspy and broken than Wilburs but it still wasn't the healthiest voice he had heard and he had heard alot of voices; granted, it never was.

"What do you mean this isn't our world?"

"It means what it says, we're in a different timeline because I know for a fact that Wilbur was with me when I died but according to today's events he was talking to you." the goat hybrid glared at the winged man like he had just murdered his entire family. He could almost taste the bitterness that came off of the younger male as he crossed his arms and turned to look at the fridge. 

"Anyway, why is this in here?"

Phil blushed and pushed the semi solid ghost out of the room and into the party filled street.


	5. Another me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing another Philza into the story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of unrelated but I'm seriously tempted to write a dsmp and japt crossover fic.

The streets of a now great lmanburg were lined with dancing and cheering. An awkward looking boy (also known as the now elected president of lmanburg) sat uncomfortably at a familiar podium; his hands were tensed in his lap and his eyes darted across the crowd like his eldest son had once done, paranoia seeping into his movements like a poisonous gas. 

Tubbo's eyes eventually landed on philza and the young boy seemingly tensed up even more. His hands were shaking violently and he eventually looked away. 

What was going on?

*****

Philza was a calm man, a nice man. He had three sons that he loved dearly and he was a large contributor to lmanburgs evergrowing economy.

But then the war hit.

His eldest and his youngest had gone to fight for independence. He remembered the letters his sons sent. 'Independence of death' slowly became a common theme among the torn sheets of lined paper that sat in his oak draws. He remembered some letters especially well. 

He remembered the looks of pity that left him confused as he walked down the street. He remembered the pats on the back that felt borderline invasive. He remembers the phrase "I'm sorry for your loss" that left him frozen.

The day his youngest son came home alone was burned into his memory. The broken look on his face would haunt his dreams for years. 

Which is why he's going to blow it to hell. That nation took everything away from him and gave nothing back. For that, it deserves worse.

All of those factors combined with the fact that the day was closing in on him added up to create mass confusion when he woke up in an unfamiliar living room clutching a blood soaked trench coat and familiar beanie.

One minute he was slowly falling asleep in his bed with his ghost sons music playing from the living room and now he's here... wherever here is.

His body was stiff and achy as he sat up, his ears were faintly ringing and his eyes felt sore and swollen he heard an unfamiliar voice singing a familiar song; the voice sounded young and every note he choked out were followed up with the rough sobs of someone who had cried for a week eventually the voice came closer and into the room stepped a young fox hybrid wearing a familiar yellow jumper and a pair of ratty blue trainers.

The boy was a perfect copy of the child in the photo Wilbur kept in his wallet before... philza didn't know much about the cub, mostly because he had found out about him the day after he found out his son had died. 

"Oh, umm, you're awake. I wasn't sure how long you'd be out for" the boys Dutch accent rang through the room like a gold bell in a church.

"Who- who are you?" Phil's voice was quiet as he spoke, wincing as the boy handed him some water.

"My name is fundy. I'm Wilburs son... your grandson"


	6. Arguments and grief

Phil stared at ~~the boy~~ his grandson, his eyes wide in shock as his confusion took over. The young fox hybrid coughed awkwardly, his gaze focused on the floor of the oak house.

"I know you probably don't want to, you know, talk about Wilbur at the moment and that's understandable but I have a question" his words were quick and shaky and his gaze stayed pointed at the floor. 

"What's your question?"

"What... what happened yesterday?"

Philza tilted his head.

"Why did you kill him?" The older man let out a breath, his face decorated with confusion. Wilbur wasn't killed by him. Wilbur was already dead, he was sure of it. He may not be sure of much anymore but his sons death was still clear in his mind.

"Look, I'm going to be honest here, I don't think I'm the right phil." He stated, confusing his grieving grandson. Fundy let out a sorrowful chuckle.

"What do you mean? You're philza minecraft right? The man that murdered his mentally ill son instead of letting him face the consequences of his actions!"

That absolutely wasn't him.

"Look, I'm the wrong guy to yell at"

"Why, Because Wilbur did worse? You killed my dad! Your own son!"

"Just li-"

"You left me an orphan! I didn't even get to talk to him after a year of him being in exile!"

"Listen to m-" 

"Why did you only kill Wilbur? Why not techno asw-"

"Fundy!" A feminine german voice cut the sobbing fox off as the sound of a door faintly opening echoed through the house. Fundy looked drained.

"Nikis here. You know, your dead sons best friend" philza remembered Niki or 'the Baker with a heart of gold and the moral compass of an angel' as Wilbur described her.

There was no doubt in Phil's mind that niki was heartbroken at the news of Wills death and there was even less of a doubt that she was heartbroken in this world now. 

Fundy sighed at the sight of the uncooperative elder and left to meet the German Baker, leaving phil alone.


	7. Family drama

As phil stood in his 'grandsons' house his mind began to wonder. Why did this universes version of himself kill Wilbur? Hell, he would kill to hug his son again and now he was in a universe where 2 days ago that would have been possible, he could have ruffled his hair, held him close, and told him that he was proud but other philza ruined that. Other phil didn't realise what he just lost.

The sorrowful laughter rang through from the other room like a funeral march in a church full of mourners. Nikis hopeful voice overshone the sombre mood just like his sons had once described it.

"An angel among sinners" an eerily familiar voice muttered, the raspy and quiet tone left his mind reeling.

Philza quickly turned his head, eyes glossing over as he searched for the owner of the voice.

"I'm behind you" the voice said again, holding an amused tone as the elder turned around to face the light grey figure that held a glistening sword in his hand.

"I'm assuming this is yours... or at least this worlds version of you." Phil quickly wiped his eyes, the voice wiping him of all emotion. The voice sounded so broken and resigned that even the most heartless of creatures would feel sad. Phil supposed that most ghosts sound that way anyway. 

Philza had struggled to grasp this concept the first time when he heard the news that his pacifist son had died in a duel with a god and was now a ghost; now you could say he understands it even less.

The ghost took philzas silence as a go ahead to keep talking.

"I dont know how much I can help but I can try and catch you up."


End file.
